Much Ado About High School
by horseradish-sprout
Summary: Hannah and Chris love each other. Ben and Brittany hate each other. John hates everyone. Peter's just happy to be here. Love, drama, and heartbreak, in a way only High School can provide it. Based not so loosely on William Shakespeare's "Much Ado About Nothing." *Crossposting to my FictionPress account with the same name*
1. Chapter 1

"_He is no less than a stuffed man, but for the stuffing—well, we are all mortal."_

* * *

Hannah Ato and Brittany Hawke sat on the edge of the Messina High parking lot. It was a warm, spring night, a good day to be outside, and an adequate day to be stuck waiting for a ride home from Hannah's father. Coach Ato was out with the rest of the baseball team; they had an afternoon game, and would no doubt arrive back to school at any second. Hannah waited patiently, but Brittany was no longer too keen on waiting.

Brittany fell back onto the sidewalk and sighed. "Come _on_, Hannah, I told you, we aren't _that _far away from your house. Why can't we just walk there?"

"Be_cause_," Hannah responded snootily, "we are waiting for the team to get back. They might have made it to state; this is a big deal for my dad, okay?"

"You sure it's not because of Chris?" Brittany asked, narrowing her eyes playfully. Chris Noble was a senior outfielder, and a boy that Hannah just happened to have her eye on.

"Shut _up_," Hannah said. "You know that's not it!" Her blush said otherwise.

Brittany sat up quickly, emboldened by Hannah's reaction. "Don't lie to me like that; you know I see right through you. Besides, if anyone can put in a good word for you, it's me."

"He wouldn't even be interested, he doesn't even know me that well."

"He's a boy, he likes anything he can put his dick into."

"Brittany!"

"I'm just saying, you've got an in if you let him put it in," Brittany laughed. Flustering Hannah was a favorite pastime of hers, although she found it far too easy.

"Well I hope he isn't that kind of boy," Hannah muttered.

"So you _are_ staying here for him?"

"I said, shut _up_!" Hannah's face was bright as a tomato, which made Brittany just laugh harder.

"Oh, calm down," Brittany chided. "I've had to listen to Peter Donovan go _on _and_ on_ about how wonderful of a guy Chris is, and if that dork is such good friends with Chris, then there's no way Chris is even a little sleazy. Besides, he's never tried anything on me, and look at me; he definitely would."

"Maybe he's waiting for prom."

"Don't be stupid. High school doesn't revolve around prom. This isn't a stupid movie. You've got a lot to learn about how the world works, young one."

"I'm only a year younger than you, Brittany," Hannah shot back, laughing.

"And that makes me a whole year wiser, Hannah. You little sophomores think you know everything, but you aren't much worse than the freshmen."

Hannah slapped at Brittany playfully, and the two friends laughed. Suddenly, Hannah's phone started vibrating. She looked over to see who was calling her. "Oh shit, it's my dad," she said, and grabbed the phone.

"Hello?"

"Are they back yet? Tell them I don't see the bus and I'm getting hungry."

"_Not now, Brittany_—hi Dad! Yeah, Brittany's here too, did you—oh my god, that's great!"

"What is it?" Brittany asked. "Put it on speaker." Hannah dropped the phone into her palm and pressed the screen.

"—got the last catch," rumbled the voice of a middle-aged man. Coach Ato was a proud and excitable man, and Brittany could tell from just the end of that sentence that the ball game must have gone well. "Chris really came together out there today; I'm proud of him."

"You don't say?!" Brittany said, eyes poring into Hannah's skull. "He seems like a real good guy. Bet he'd make a lady very happy." Hannah had gone beet red again.

"Wha…? Oh. Hey, Brittany. I…I guess, oh, hey, and Ben pitched six shut-out innings, too!"

Brittany's expression immediately turned sour at the sound of Benjamin Bullworth's name. The two had been close friends for most of their elementary and middle-school years, and even dated briefly in tenth grade, but after a rough breakup, the two couldn't stand to be in the same room together.

"Oh, that's…that's amazing," Brittany said, feigning sincerity. "But of course, it's not too hard for any batters to miss the ball when they're too afraid that looking at the pitcher will turn them to stone." Hannah raised an eyebrow at Brittany, who winked at her. Her tone was playful, but Hannah thought she heard some resentment in Brittany's voice at the mere thought of Ben succeeding at something.

"Now, Brittany," Coach Ato said, not catching the resentment and only hearing her joke at face-value, "It's been a while since I've studied myths, but I'm thinking that's not how the story goes."

"Nope, that's definitely how it goes. You can tell him I said that, too."

"Ah, tell him yourself, we're almost there. I just wanted to call and make sure I knew where you troublemakers were."

"Dad, I would never…" Hannah started.

"That one's mostly on Brittany," Coach Ato said.

"That's fair," Brittany agreed, shrugging. "See you soon, Uncle A."

"See you girls," he said, and with a soft click, the phone went silent. The two girls sat in silence on the curb; Brittany wore an expression of smugness, while Hannah's face was a bit shrewder. As the seconds ticked by, Brittany could no longer ignore the judgmental expression on her cousin's face.

"What?"

"It's just so like you to start your whole flirty war of wits with Ben before he's even near you."

"War of wits? Are you kidding? It is nothing like that! If we ever had a battle of wits, it was a long time ago, and I killed all of his wits except whatever dumb one he has now. I'd be completely done with that dumbass, if it weren't for the fact that—"

"—that you've still got feelings for him?"

"—that he's decided to buddy-buddy up with Chris since he asked me to Prom, and you watch that tongue, I can ruin you if I so desire," Brittany finished, shoving Hannah playfully again, although this time, Hannah noted, much more defensively. "Benjamin Bullshit wears his friends like he wears his stupid designer clothes – only to make him look good until they don't anymore."

"So I take it he's not in your good books?" Hannah said, smiling.

"If I even had just one copy of him in an entire library, I'd burn the whole library."

"Seems a bit counter-productive."

"So's trying to get with a man who already has a date to prom, but you don't see me complaining." Brittany stood up suddenly, her appetite for banter quickly diminished. Noting the change, Hannah also stood up and made to apologize, but something held her back. She hadn't known what exactly it was that broke the two up after they had dated, but seeing how Brittany and Ben to both hold such a grudge over it, she didn't even know if she wanted to wade into that pool of emotions. Instead, she noticed that there was a long yellow school bus turning onto the street and towards the front entrance of the school.

Brittany and Hannah stayed silent as the bus rumbled up to the school entrance and fall to a stop. She seemed to be hiding her sudden sullenness as the doors hissed open and the first wave of students piled out, sweaty from the game. Some had grass and dirt stains on their knees and chests, while some looked like they had just put their uniforms on for the ride there. Either way, almost all of them were smiling ear to ear. Finally, a heavyset man with short, salt and pepper hair and a lightly wrinkled smile. "Hey, girls," Mr. Ato said happily. "Thanks for waiting on—"

"Brittany Hawke and Hannah Ato themselves! Good to see you!" Roared a boy who was right behind him. Darting around Coach Ato, Peter Donovan ran up to see his two friends. He was shorter than Hannah, who herself was still only about five feet tall, and he was scrawny. Brittany wondered to herself how any noise as booming as Peter's could come from a mouth so tiny as Peter's.

"Hey, Peter," Brittany said politely. "Is Chris somewhere back there?"

"He's right here!" Chris himself said, stepping off the bus. He was much larger than Peter, topping off around six feet tall, with strawberry-blonde hair and bright green eyes. He looked like a child from a Norman Rockwell painting, only grown up. His face still looked very young and sweet. Hannah and Brittany shared a glance as Chris walked up to them.

"Chris, have I introduced you to Hannah yet?" Brittany asked. Hannah fell mute and blushed yet again.

"You…you have not," he responded as he looked her up and down, slowly. A little too slowly. Brittany cringed, and Hannah seemed to shrink a little lower in embarrassment.

"Alright, calm down, Sparky. She's the coach's daughter," Brittany said defensively, stepping between the two and smiling.

Chris stepped back and looked at the coach. "Wait, this Hannah is your daughter?"

"Of course, she is," Peter said. "She looks just like him!"

"Yikes, I'd hope not," came a voice from behind them all. "What a terrible thing to say to a young girl, saying she looks like an old man." Another boy stepped off the bus. He was about as tall as Chris was, but rail-thin and with sharp eyes. He had medium-length brown hair that fell in front of green brown eyes. Stubble clung like dirt to his chin; he was one of the few boys in school that could actually grow any facial hair that wasn't immediately embarrassing. He had his bag swung over his shoulder confidently and effortlessly.

"Are you still talking, Ben? No one wants to hear it," Brittany said roughly and loudly. Her words were like gunshots, and most of the students and ballplayers stepped back. Ben and Brittany meeting up in public usually was treated like the two were gladiators in an arena; their sharp words jabbing at each other like spears. And at this time, it seemed that Brittany was making the first move.

Ben stepped back and coughed in mock surprise, then stepped forward with a jab of his own. "Brittany? Brittany Hawke? Is that really you? Haven't you shriveled up and died yet, you raisin?"

"A raisin at least provides something to someone, unlike you," Brittany parried. "And I'm only shriveled up because you make everything shrivel up and die just by being near them."

"Oh, believe me, the last thing I do is leave people dry," Ben said, to a chorus of shouts by some of the other players. "Especially the girls, if you remember correctly."

Brittany's eyes burned like fire. "The only thing I remember is a distinct sense of satisfaction that never came. Well, never came from me, at least." The shouts and jeers multiplied. Even Chris and Peter, who usually sided with Ben in these bouts, were snickering quietly behind him. Ben himself was caught off-guard with that one, so she went in for the kill. "Don't even talk to me right now, Ben. I'd rather eat my cat's hairballs than whatever gross thing is going to come out of your mouth next."

"I wish my car was as fast as your tongue, but at least I get better mileage out of that than anyone does with you," Ben retorted. "Anyway, I'll let you have this one, Britt. I already got eight strike-outs today, I don't need another one."

Brittany opened her mouth to fight back, but she didn't have anything she could say. Ben had a way of making it seem like he was always the smarter one in their arguments; even when he lost, he still made it seem like he won. "Come on, Hannah. Let's go."

"Well not so fast!" Chris said. "We won today! We're headed to state! We gotta party tonight. Britt, your house is still fair game, right?"

Brittany was still distracted from her battle. "What?"

"The party?"

"Oh…yeah, yeah. Everyone get here by 10, and no booze this time. Lookin' at you, John," Brittany said, fully recovered, at least on the outside. John Donovan, Peter's older brother, who had snuck off the bus during the battle that had just raged, rolled his eyes.

"Whatever," he said and walked away.

"Oh, ignore him," Peter said to Brittany. "He's just grumpy because he sat on the bench and didn't make the game-winning play, like some people did." He puffed up his chest proudly.

"Peter, I caught the ball," Chris said, confused. "You didn't have anything to do with the last play."

"I gave the pitcher the signal to give the heat. He pitched the fastball. I orchestrated everything. I'm more than a catcher, I'm a puppetmaster."

"You're an idiot," Ben and Britt said at the same time. They locked eyes and immediately looked away, wondering who was the dumber one for saying the other's joke.

"Alright, kids," Coach Ato said. "You heard Brittany. She's got the party tonight. If I find out any of you are drinking at this, you won't be playing in the state tournament; I don't care how good you are. Hannah, you coming home with me or Brittany?" Hannah inched closer to Brittany, which told him all he needed to know. "Alright. Please be home by 11 or at least call me to say you're spending the night this time."

"I will. See you, Dad!"

Coach Ato ambled toward his SUV and the bus, now completely empty of student athletes, also pulled away. Once the coach was out of earshot, Peter looked at Brittany. "There is going to be booze tonight, right?"

"Obviously," Brittany said. "If I have to invite Ben over, there's no way I'll be able to make it through that party sober. I'll call my buyer." She quickly turned and walked away before he could make a single retort.


	2. Chapter 2

"_Can the world buy such a jewel?"_

"_Yea, and a case to put it into."_

* * *

The crowd of students dispersed, leaving Chris, Peter, and Ben alone.

"So, we're definitely going to that party, right?" Peter asked.

"You can if you want," Ben said sourly. "I might sit this one out."

"Sit this…sit this one out?" Peter shouted in disbelief. "The Bull himself is turning down the opportunity to go to a party? Brittany must've really done a number on you this time."

"I swear to God, Peter, if you call me the Bull one more time…" Ben started.

"What, you'll gore me with your horns? Please, I've been looking for a good goring for years." He laughed. Neither Chris nor Ben did. "Whatever, that joke was clever as hell, and nothing you can say will convince me otherwise."

"Yeah, sure," Chris said. "Hey, Peter. Do you mind if I have a little talk with Ben? I gotta pick his brain on a couple things. We'll see you at the party later, alright?"

"Fine, but once I die, you'll be sorry you missed out on this comedy legend."

"Sure thing, see you," Chris said politely. He and Ben began walking toward the school parking lot, where they had parked their cars earlier in the morning. They walked in silence, with Chris anxiously taking sidelong glances at Ben. Finally, when they reached Ben's car, a dark red Honda Accord, Ben broke.

"Alright, Chris, what is it that's so important?"

"You saw Coach Ato's daughter, right?" he asked excitedly.

"Yes…?" Ben said, squinting suspiciously. "So have you? She's at, like, ninety percent of practices and every home game."

"You're kidding."

"Have you seriously not seen her around?"

"I think I'd have noticed a girl who looks like she does."

"I'm…I'm not even going to try and put into words how much I didn't need to hear that," Ben sputtered, opening the trunk door and tossing his bags inside.

"Come on, man," Chris said, following suit She's gorgeous! You gotta admit that much, at least."

Ben laughed uncertainly. "Stop messing with me, man. That's the coach's daughter. You're making it weird."

"Am I though?" Chris asked. "I know it's weird, but I felt something there, man!"

"Christ," muttered Ben, slamming the trunk door shut. "If you keep going on about this, I'm not giving you a lift home, dude."

"Fine, dude, I'll can it."

The two got into the car and Ben turned the key in the ignition. They left the parking lot in silence and were halfway down the street when Chris turned back to Ben.

"Don't look at me like that," Ben said shortly, keeping his eyes on the road.

"I don't know what you mean," Chris said in a mock innocence.

"That…that look! Stop that!"

"I will, but only if you honestly tell me what you think of Hannah."

"You said you'd can it."

"I didn't say for how long," Chris said, leaning back in his seat and grinning. "You think she'd go for a guy like me?"

"Oh my God, she is _sixteen_." Ben said, aggressively reminding Chris that she was a whole two years younger than either of them were.

"Age is just a number," Chris shrugged.

"And statutory is just a crime," Ben snapped. "Look, if you _have _to know, she's fine. She is a cute girl. Can we please talk about something else?"

"She is not _just _a cute girl, she's absolutely flawless," Chris insisted.

"The only things flawless in this whole situation are my eyes, because I'm seeing this so much clearly than you are," Ben snorted. "Look, even without unpacking all those suitcases of yikes that have made up this conversation, she is objectively not even that hot. Hell, Brittany Hawke is more attractive than Hannah, and I say that knowing full well she's Satan incarnate."

"Bringing up Brittany again?" Chris said slyly.

"What? No, I'm just making an example."

"Lots of other examples you could have chosen, Ben."

"Oh, look, here we are," Ben said suddenly, quickly pulling into the driveway of Chris's house. "Get out of my car."

"You driving me to Brittany's tonight, too?"

"Yeah, but don't go crazy, it's your turn to DD tonight. I'll be back around eight. Want me to pick you up anything?"

"Whatever you can get for $20," Chris said, tossing a bill onto his seat.

It was a little bit after 8:15 when Ben's Accord pulled into Chris's driveway a second time. Chris and Peter were sitting together on the stoop of his porch, amiably chatting.

"Let's go, loverboy!" Ben called from the driver's seat. The two rushed toward the car. Peter hopped into the backseat, while Chris took the front.

"Was loverboy directed at me, Benjamin?" Peter asked.

"Don't get your hopes up too much, Pete," Ben said, looking across the car at Chris, who was staring intently at him, all but screaming for Ben to keep his mouth shut.

"This have something to do with your secret meeting after the game?" Peter asked shrewdly. "That's awfully rude. You know that friends don't keep secrets with each other."

"Ben…" Chris warned.

"I'm _so_ sorry, Chris," Ben apologized, his voice dripping with sarcasm, and a mischievous grin on his face. "as the old adage goes, _secrets secrets are no fun…_"

"Secrets are for everyone! That's the spirit!" Peter cheered, thumping the felt roof of the car. Chris fumed and crossed his arms, looking a bit like a giant baby in his car seat. Peter grabbed his friends' shoulders from the backseat. "So, what's the big secret? Why are you 'loverboy' now, Chris?"

"I…" Chris started. He trailed off, not wanting to say.

"He's got the hots for Coach Ato's daughter," Ben said, laughing.

"I don't 'have the hots' for her, don't say that!" Chris whined.

"Hey, go for it!" Peter said, shrugging.

"I'm sorry, what was that?" Ben asked, hitting the brakes and bringing the car to a lurching stop a bit too far away from the coming stop sign.

"I said go for it, Chris," Peter repeated. "Hannah's been staring you down since you joined the team, probably even longer. I think you two would be pretty good together, honestly."

"Oh, I know we would be!" Chris chirped, happy at the turn of events.

"Are my thoughts and knowledge not valid, then?" Ben grumbled under his breath.

"Oh, you've got the feels good this time, don't you?" Peter asked.

"I just have to _be_ with her, you know?" Chris shouted.

"I _feel _like I'm going to _be_ sick," Ben grumbled, a bit louder than he did before.

"Oh, come off of it, Ben," Peter scolded. "You straights always lose your minds over innocent love bullshit like this. You're going to fall in love one of these days, mark my words."

"What, is that a threat?" Ben asked defiantly. "I already tried the love thing. It doesn't work. I'm not about to have some woman take my heart and smash it into pieces again, no thanks. Certainly not while I'm still in high school."

"Not every girl is Brittany, dude," Chris said.

"What? I know that. Of course, I know that." Ben snapped.

"I can't wait for the day you start feeling lovesick, Ben," Peter teased. "that sickness might actually kill you."

"I hope it takes me soon, then." The conversation trailed off there. The three sat in silence for a bit until Ben took a sharp right into a gravel road off the edge of town. It was a road he had been down many times, and rarely had he seen it this covered in cars. The three boys could see their teammates, as well as a whole other gathering of students. Ben pulled off to the side of the road and parked the car. "Well, we're here. Your booze is in the trunk. If you need me, I'll be inside, drinking a lot." He got out of the car and popped the trunk, stalking off toward the house that stood at the end of the road: Brittany's house. Chris and Peter hung back, grabbing their bottles, and waiting until their friend was out of earshot.

"So you're going after the coach's daughter, then, huh?" Peter said. "As far as I can tell, that's a good choice. She's pretty."

"I'd do anything for her."

"Alright, Romeo. Cool your jets, or you're going to get yourself killed for no good reason. Maybe just try 'I'd like to get coffee with you,' see where that gets you." Peter walked ahead, unscrewing his bottle of vodka and taking a deep swig. He immediately coughed, almost spitting the entire gulp into the ground. "I absolutely did _not_ give Ben $20 for damn lighter fluid. This is unreasonable. Chris, are you coming or not?"

"I…I don't know what I'd say to her if she's here," he muttered, blushing.

"Honey, you're acting gayer than I do," Peter said. "Just tell her you like her hair or something, I don't know, drink some liquid courage."

"Could you talk to her? Maybe be my wingman?"

"You're a sad case, Chris, and my heart goes out to you. I'll…I don't know, I'll tell her you think she's cute or something. She's a sophomore, and you're a senior, that should be enough."

"Thanks, I really owe you," Chris said with a sigh of relief.

"Find me some better booze than this ass-water, and we're even," Peter said, smiling broadly.


	3. Chapter 3

"_If I can cross him any way, I bless myself every way."_

* * *

John Donovan kicked an empty can of soda across the road. He had left the company of the rest of the team long before they had disbanded. He had no reason to go to a party, and he certainly didn't want to go to a party for his idiot brother and his idiot friend Chris. The sun dipped lower into the sky, casting the gloomy teen in a fierce orange glow. It was quiet in the small town. He liked it that way, so he was more than a little annoyed when he heard the familiar rumble of a slashed muffler roaring up behind him.

"Jay DEEEEEEEEEE," came a deep and booming voice, which was nearly as loud as the engine. The car, a junky black beater with chipped paint and a fair share of dents, pulled up to his left, and hanging out his window was his friend Corinne Radke, a petite girl with shocking pink hair and a deceptively powerful voice for such a tiny girl. On the other side of the car, with his hands on the wheel, sat her boyfriend, the lanky, tan-skinned Brett Radisson. He swept his long, greasy, black hair to its side with his right hand and nodded upwards; his own silent hello.

"Corn. Brett." John wasn't particularly in the mood for their shenanigans, though he didn't doubt they'd convince him to hop in the car and find something to do.

"Dude, how was the game?" Corinne asked.

"Same shit, different day," John said sourly. "Coach still won't put me in. I'm sick of it."

"Tone the emo down, Brendan Urie," Corinne scolded playfully. "I know what'll cheer you up."

"Is it doing hood rat shit with my—"

"It is abso_lute_-ly doing hood rat shit with your hood rat friends!" Corinne shouted, with an accompanying "Hey-ooo!" from Brett from behind the wheel. "Get in, man. We stole a Dirty Thirty from the gas station and some glass vases from the thrift store, you wanna smash some glass?"

"I admit, it sounds like a good time, but I don't know," John said.

"What, you going soft on us?"

"No, it's just going to distract me. Let me wallow in this for a bit, and I'll be fine."

"Oh, come on," Corinne pleaded. "Smashing things is medicine for the soul!"

"Mischief isn't medicine," John said, an eyebrow raised. "It's a Band-Aid, at best."

"Ugh, stop being such a downer. Brett, babe, kill the motor." The motor stopped purring and she got out of the car and placed a hand on John's shoulder. "You haven't been the same since Peter got bumped up to starting catcher. Sucks, dude, I get it. But there's no point in getting pissy at us for it. If being on the field is so damned important to you, take a page out of his book. Maybe if you started to suck up to Coach like Peter does, he'd put you in."

"I'd rather egg his car, really," John admitted.

"Hey, man, we can do that too if you want."

"YO!" Brett called from inside the car. "John, dude, you didn't tell us you guys won the game?"

"Read the room, shithead," Corinne said.

"I am reading the room, dummy," Brett said, exiting the car himself and leaning on the roof. "I also read that Brittany Hawke is holding the party. You know it's always lit as hell at her place."

"No, thanks," John sneered. "I'm actually kind of into this egging plan right now."

"Dude, this could actually be a thing. You wanna screw with Coach Ato right?"

Corinne and John shared a glance.

"You know who's going to be at that party, _right_? Hannah? His daughter? Hannah Ato?"

John's eyes lit up. "Hannah Ato. That cute sophomore? Go on."

"'Go on,' he says, like he hasn't jerked it to her yearbook photo for the past three years," Corinne said under her breath.

"What did you just say to me?" John accused. "Shut up, Corn."

"Dude, you've been pining over her for years, I can practically see your dick saluting her right now!" Corinne laughed, punching him playfully, but with surprising force on the shoulder.

"She's got a point, man, but will you let me explain?" Brett asked, holding back a laugh of his own. John, clearly not able to hold up his façade anymore, grumbled and waved for Brett to continue.

"You know how she's got it real bad for Chris Noble, right?"

"That moron? Unfortunately." John still wasn't following.

"Well, that moron's a friend of mine's little brother. Says the guy's a hopeless romantic as much as he is a total idiot. You see where I'm going here?"

John's eyes sparked. "Yeah…Yeah, I think I do. We could make something of this." He grinned mischievously. "You know if we mess with his daughter enough, we might be able to get Coach Ato a headache, too."

"It'd be good payback for failing me in history," Corinne said, her smile also growing wide.

"You did that to yourself, dumbass," Brett joked.

"Tough words to the girl who's going to be sitting across from you while you have to keep your eyes on the road and your hands on the wheel," Corinne snapped playfully. The two laughed and hopped in the car, John piling in after them.

John pulled two cans of beer, still cold from their first home in the gas station, cracked them open with a carbonated rip of aluminum, and handed one to Corinne. "Drink up, Corn, we got a party to crash!"

They drove off, their yelling just barely being drowned out by the roar of the engine.


End file.
